


In the Treasure Chamber

by midnightsolitaire



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29699076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightsolitaire/pseuds/midnightsolitaire
Summary: On a night surrounded by concrete, majestic evidence of the four Royals' status, the two youngest Pevensies have a talk, once and for all, of long-running guilt and resurgent feelings of unworthiness, and Lucy, for the first and last time, is finally brought into the light with regards to the darkest and most horrible part of her brother's self.
Relationships: Edmund Pevensie & Lucy Pevensie
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	In the Treasure Chamber

A soft humming accentuated the night's pale, bluish white radiance which filtered through the high ceiling window at the end of the hallway, as Lucy appeared from the top of the grand staircase, bare feet light as a breeze on the polished marble of the floor as she trudged back to her room from the kitchen. She had woken up feeling parched, and though usually someone would have a pitcher of water thoughtfully placed on her nightstand for her convenience, earlier she had spilled most of it by accident and had forgotten to ask for a refill, thus, warranting her small trip to the kitchen. She didn't mind in the slightest, after all she hadn't been sleeping very long when she'd awaken.

The temperature around Cair Paravel had been gradually and steadily getting warmer as summer approached. The air was still a bit chilly, though, particularly during the night. But it was a pleasant mix between both. Which was why Lucy ventured, or rather fancied, going out of her room and making a roundway trip along the dimly lit halls of their beloved castle, barefoot and not even bothered to throw a night robe over her comfortable dressing gown. It wasn't the biting sort of cold, but it was cool enough that she anticipated diving back into her warm covers would feel so much more welcome and delightful.

She continued on her way to the corridor on the right side, still humming the same tune — a Narnian lullaby Mr. Tumnus had once played for her. She wasn't worried about being heard for she was quiet. Besides, this part of the castle, which was to say the entire east wing, was exclusive to the royal private chambers. And currently, save for the guards stationed on opposite sides of the hallway, she and Edmund were the sole occupants, with Peter and Susan having gone to a neighboring country for some treaties. The journey encompassed two weeks, so they weren't expected to return until the end of the current one.

She soon passed by her eldest siblings' rooms, straining her ears for the slightest of murmur, a rustle of clothes, or a creaking of bone, but of course, there was only silence. It was a bit lonely, as was always the case whenever even one of the siblings was away. She proceeded towards her own room, which was right next to Susan's, though considering the sheer size of each, hers was still a little ways down the hall from her sister's. Arriving at her door at last, instead of turning the knob she turned on her spot, facing the other direction. Edmund's room was across from hers, next to Peter's. Theirs were situated on the right side, while the girls' were on the left. None of the doors from opposing sides stood directly facing each other, however. So she moved a little further along without much thought, until she was right in front of Edmund's door.

Resting an ear against the oak door, Lucy listened with difficulty for any sign of life inside. It was not quite midnight yet, though it was very late. But Edmund didn't have a sense of day and night anyway. He could just as easily be fast asleep as he could be bent over his maps or poring over books and parchments. Edmund seemed to operate on his own timezone when there were no pressing issues at hand, and between the four of them, Edmund was notorious for sleeping at the oddest of times, taking a nap at some point in an entire day, waking up disoriented and confused as to around when he had fallen asleep, and if it was dusk or dawn, or if it was still the day before or already the morrow.

While reading for the sake of gaining knowledge was not uncommon for the youngest Pevensie brother, Lucy had known him enough to know that he did this quite purposefully when something was up. Like when a war was looming and he needed to learn as much as he could about their enemies so he could design strategies and battle plans. Or when there were civil or foreign matters to be settled, since he was good at this and so it was his job to settle disputes or negotiate with important people, allies or otherwise. Another reason was when he was feeling restless, when his mind seemed to be reeling with things that were more than he could take and he needed some diversion. If she should find him awake at this hour, she had good reason to assume it was due to the latter. After all, there weren't any battles to be fought after the last one only four days ago, which was — with Edmund leading their army — decidedly on Narnia's favor. There were no current issues presented or delegations scheduled to arrive. But Edmund had been kind of aloof ever since he had come back from the most recent battle, which was, as expected, against the remnants of the White Witch's followers.

Getting hold of the brass handle with the Lion's head design on it, only hesitating slightly, Lucy rapped at Edmund's door twice before calling out his name, softly so as not to disturb him if he's indeed resting, but clear enough to hear her if he was still up. After thirty seconds or so of listening to no avail, she decided he must be asleep. But just in case, since she also wanted to check on him, she gently turned the brass knob, pushing the door ajar enough to poke her head in. She was careful to make it as soundless as possible. Unlike her own door which was well-oiled so as not to creak and disturb her slumber, Edmund had the servants leave his door as it was, because according to him, one could never be too careful, in case it's not a friend but a foe who decided to sneak in while he was unconscious. And while Lucy accepted this logic, she had to wonder if maybe Edmund should give up this vigil if only to spare him from being grumpy everytime he's awoken quite abruptly in his sleep. After all, the only ones who dared to sneak in to his room while he was dead to the world were his siblings, who seemed to quite enjoy rousing him from slumber especially when they knew that he had messed up with his body clock again.

The first things that greeted Lucy were darkness and cold as the receiving area was revealed to her. Across the large room, the separate chamber meant as the sleeping quarter was much harder to see due to the dividing wall which served to maintain privacy, but she didn't need to step further into the room to figure that he wasn't here at all. Edmund never slept or stayed in his rooms with the fireplace unlit, and in both chambers there was not a hint of even the scarce light of a candle. The fire having burned out could only mean that he hadn't been in his private chambers in a while.

Closing the door behind her, Lucy began enumerating in her mind the various places that Edmund could have taken sanctuary in so very late into the night. Deciding that there's no reason for her not to seek him now that she knew he was still up somewhere, Lucy, feeling suddenly refreshed and awake with purpose, did just that. But, alas, an occupied Edmund was almost as hard to be found as Lucy herself was normally. About fifteen minutes of fruitless searching had brought her downstairs just outside of the Throne Room near the kitchens. Distracted, she hadn't immediately noticed the centaur guard posted at the entrance of the Great Hall until her attention was called. Lucy whirled around, mildly surprised to bump into another sleepless creature in the castle.

Polite yet pleasant greetings were exchanged, after which the female centaur asked if there's anything the Queen required an assistance with. Lucy begun to say that there was no such matter of importance, but backtracked when she remembered the reason for her unplanned stroll in this unreasonable hour.

"Have you seen my brother, Edmund? Apparently he's not in his chambers so I've been looking for him. I was wondering if, by chance, he's passed by here and you've seen him?"

"Indeed, he has, Your Majesty. Not more than two hours ago. I saw King Edmund has gone in the direction of the Treasury. I haven't seen him come out since, so I believe he's still in there."

The Treasury? What could Edmund be doing in there of all places, and at this time too? Thanking the guard for her help and bidding her goodnight, Lucy entered through the huge double doors into the Throne Room, since the hidden door located on the far left corner of the large hall was the only entrance to the treasure chamber. The brick stone wall that concealed the main door had been moved aside, so there's no doubt that someone had come down here and was yet to come out. The steep and winding stone steps and the fact that she was treading her way underground with only small torches placed in equal intervals along the walls lighting her path didn't perturb Lucy in the slightest, only following the path she knew her brother had tracked and knowing that at the end she would find Edmund there. As she rounded the bend and reached the bottom of the stairs, she could see the orange glow coming from the chamber.

The steel gates were already opened, so thankfully Lucy's entrance didn't create much unnecessary noise that would disrupt the peace of the place and of the one who sought solace in it. She intentionally did not try to muffle the sounds of her now slippered feet against the ground, though, to announce her presence. The whole chamber was considerably brighter than any place Lucy had been in tonight, due to the fire running along the walls.

For a moment, Lucy looked around in awe. She had never been here after dark, she had never had a reason to. The natural darkness in the stone-walled chamber was purged by the light of the fire, while the intensity of the flames was tamed down by the darkness and tranquility of the place. It was a good balance in contrast. And already Lucy was beginning to feel an odd sense of comfort in here. No wonder Edmund had chosen to stay, whatever initial business he'd had for being here. The location and built of the room provided an ideal spot for someone who wished to be alone, but the ambience still gave off a more personal and warm vibe that one wouldn't feel isolated from the rest of the world. That was truer for the Kings and Queens, mostly because here was also a private area of the castle reserved for the four of them, and where the siblings' most prized possessions were kept.

On the left side of the chamber, sitting on a rock ledge that he'd probably dragged over there, was Edmund with his back to her. He didn't turn around until she reached his side, even as Lucy knew he had heard her approach. She flashed him a wide smile, to which he responded with a raised eyebrow over the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"Peter and Susan won't be pleased if they find out you've been missing your bedtime."

Lucy caught the teasing in her brother's voice, and although she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her, she couldn't help the slight scowl that betrayed her irritation at his insinuation, which made him snigger. "I don't have a fixed bedtime, Edmund. And besides, this is just the one night. You, on the other hand, have become an owl again over the course of one week."

"Very perceptive of you."

Now it was Lucy's turn to snicker at the sarcasm in Edmund's voice. "Say, would you mind some company for a while, Edmund?"

"If I say yes, would you go back to your room and sleep?"

Lucy pretended to think about it. "Hmm... Take a guess!"

Rolling his eyes, Edmund motioned to her with an incline of his head. "Just sit, Lucy."

Giving a small, triumphant cheer, Lucy happily bounded over to her brother. Edmund, shaking his head though a smile played on his lips, scooted over to give her space.

Once settled, Lucy's eyes fell on the marble statue of King Edmund the Just by the alcove wall. The four monarchs each had their own marble statues as tributes to their Coronation Day. In front of Edmund's was his chest, atop of which laid his silver crown.

"What do you think, Lu?" Edmund's voice brought her back from the beginnings of a contemplation. "Do I look anything like him?" He pointed towards his statue.

Lucy's reply was immediate, as though she had already thought about this before. "No. You look so serious here. But I remember you smiling a lot during our Coronation."

There was a pause wherein Edmund turned to her while waiting for her to continue, and when she didn't, he asked, "That's the only reason?"

Lucy nodded, her gaze appraising each of the statues with a thoughtful look. "I don't think they look like any of us did back then, actually. The craftsmanship is wonderful, of course. If anything, I just feel they're more regal than, you know, real. I wish they captured your bright smile that day."

When there was no response from Edmund, Lucy shifted her gaze back to him, finding him in deep thought as he stared fixedly at his marble representation. She never did like it very much when her brother got into a pensive mood. She knew she was being silly, but it always made her a bit anxious wondering if sad or awful things were plaguing his thoughts. Then before she knew it, she was already addressing that anxiety.

"What's on your mind, Edmund?"

For a moment, Lucy thought he would deflect her question or find a way around it. It took Edmund a while, but eventually he did give an actual reply, to her momentary relief because that quickly changed to concern at the nature of his answer.

"Just thinking whether or not things are truly as simple as I thought them to be."

"What do you mean?" She gently probed.

When Edmund's gaze flitted back to her, he seemed to consider what to tell her. But Lucy was patient. She was aware that Edmund was not comfortable with disclosing some things that ailed him in a quite personal level, but just this once she rather hoped he would, if only so that she could help him in some way.

It was a moment later when he seemed to have decided, but although his tone was casual, Lucy sensed that his usual guard was up. "In the recent battle with the Fell Beasts, there was this hag that I had to fight. She was waiting to ambush me, I think, for some kind of ritual. They intended to bring the White Witch back."

Lucy's mouth opened in horror. "What? But I never heard anything about this. Not from the soldiers. Or you."

"It was just me and the hag. We were in a bit of a secluded area away from the heat of battle. No one knows apart from Oreius. I have him wait for Peter to come home before I tell him everything that's happened. And I didn't want to tell you, at least until Peter and Susan are here. I knew you'd worry."

A frown appeared on her face. Of course she'd want to know. Lucy had absolute faith in her brother. And true enough, Edmund had successfully led their army to battle and later to victory, against the followers of the White Witch no less. But if it were up to her, she wouldn't have him anywhere near anything related to the White Witch, let alone on his first battle without Peter. And to think there had been a prospect of Edmund facing the White Witch again... "I never knew it had come that close."

Edmund cut her off abruptly. "It hadn't. It's as what I've said — they _intended_ for it." He snorted. "Old hag never stood a chance."

If Edmund had promptly stopped the enemy, then Lucy supposed it was okay. It did not do much to abate her worries, but she accepted it and nodded. Still, she implored him lightly, "Then what's the matter?"

One side of his lips turned up in a light smirk as Edmund shot her a glance, amused but not surprised at how rightly she could figure him out sometimes. And perhaps, it was partly due to him being not less than obvious. "Maybe I didn't get rid of her fast enough."

"She had hurt you," Lucy whispered.

Edmund was about to open his mouth, his answer in the negative already on the tip of his tongue, before he stopped as the context of that question got confused in his brain. _Had she?_ "No. Of course not. I—" He hesitated, before finally saying, "She said something." Their eyes met, and the expectant look in hers in addition to her silence was urging him to elaborate. "She told me that I was twice a traitor. First, when I betrayed the Narnians, then when I betrayed the White Witch."

Lucy's expression turned horrified and indignant. Edmund allowed himself a small smile, which hinted at a fondness for his sister and a shame from the cause of such reaction from her. He continued before she could start ranting a barrage of defense for him.

"And then she told me that I should switch back to the White Witch's side and help them bring her back, then I'll be less of a traitor."

Lucy gasped out loud. "How — How could she?! That's just low, but most of all it's ridiculous! Ed, you wouldn't believe her!" She exclaimed, aghast, although the last sentence sounded more like a demand that he should not dare believe such utter nonsense. When he didn't answer for several seconds, choosing instead to stare at his marble statue in order to avoid her gaze, she shifted on her seat so she could face him. "Oh, Ed..."

Turning to Lucy, he saw her emotions plainly displayed across her features. The same indignation, slight reproach, utter disbelief and sadness, and a tiny hint of pity. Edmund, of course, was used to Lucy's expressiveness. She and Peter were alike in this way, as he and Susan were alike in their much calmer approach when it came to their emotions. Edmund didn't resent his younger sister for her feelings simply because they're hers, she had no control of what she should feel and he knew that she felt that way because she cared about him. And he surely didn't hate her for being unable to be discreet about them either. He even found her strong passion endearing most of the time. He just simply wasn't someone to be so easily swayed by his heart, without first considering the facts laid out on the table. And there were so many of them in his mind's eye, and while Lucy's compassion and anger on his behalf was appreciated, at the moment, Edmund couldn't be moved by her intensity.

"It's alright, Lu." He assured her nonchalantly, easing his demeanor into something a little chipper. "It's not the whole truth anyway, though it holds some. It had me thinking, is all. Her words hold nothing over me."

"Then what does?"

At the quiet question, Edmund's false cheery smile gradually fell away. He supposed he shouldn't have been unsuspecting of this; Lucy had always been sensible and pretty accurate in her perception of those around her. Furthermore, he himself was aware that his mood hadn't been the best after he had come home from the last battle. Edmund could practically feel his expression closing off, sense the blaseness creeping in, feel himself withdrawing as he tended to do whenever confronted about the secret self that he rarely ever showed to others.

"It's the White Witch herself, isn't it?"

Edmund said nothing, but Lucy was paying close attention and knew what she was looking for, so she couldn't miss his eyes harden, though any negativity behind that small and easily overlooked reaction she was certain was not meant for her. "But... it's been four years," she reasoned softly, though in her ears it sounded pleading somehow.

Edmund gave a low chuckle, the sound devoid of any mirth. "If we're talking about moving on from something the likes of which I have experienced myself, that's not really much time to go by, isn't it?" He immediately checked his tone when he noticed it was gaining a biting edge to it. Lucy didn't deserve to have him getting snide with her due to no fault of her own. "And besides, I don't think time really matters here."

"But you can't keep feeling like that for the rest of your life!" She said with a bit of a desperation in her voice. Then more quietly, with large eyes boring into him sympathetically, "You are not a traitor forever, Ed."

He shrugged his shoulder. "Maybe I'm not being one. Doesn't mean I am not already one. I'm not saying that it's entirely who I am. But don't you see, Lucy?" He rounded on his seat so he was facing her directly. "That is me. I've been called that because I have betrayed! Whether I like it or not, my actions have already branded me. It's part of my past and the reason that I am exactly who you see in front of you right now. It doesn't matter if I don't keep being a traitor. I am a traitor as much as I am the Just King."

Lucy didn't say anything, but with the obvious pain reflected in those blue eyes, he could have just as well hit her. He could also clearly see the unspoken question behind them, wondering why he was so adamant about this. "I'm sorry, Lu. I didn't mean for it to sound so.... torturous, or something. It's not like I don't believe in redemption at all, or that I haven't come far from who I was before. It's just..."

Edmund regarded his sister. Lucy was still gazing up at him expectantly, though her eyes held a certain openness that he had once seen in her, that day in Aslan's Camp when she had broken ranks from their siblings and unhesitatingly come to him first.

Edmund sighed. It was probably midnight, so most of the castle were likely asleep. Peter and Susan weren't present. All urgent matters would be attended to in the morning. For now, Edmund had the whole night to himself. He supposed he had the time, if he were to tell Lucy. What's keeping him? Although it was a rhetorical question, a tiny voice seemed to taunt him: your own self. He dismissed the thought. Well, they had already breached his walls. And he did find solace in a long night anyway without wasting it away with sleep, so maybe a company for once wouldn't be such a bad idea.

"...Siding against the White Witch doesn't make me feel bad. I mean, she's evil, so betraying her — I suppose, if that's what her followers would say — that doesn't mean anything to me." There was a pause in which Edmund's face adopted a somber look. "But loyalty does."

"You know I've never really given much thought to that word before. I mean, what can a boy pledge his loyalty to, be accused of treason and sentenced to death when he breaks it? But ever since we got here, I've come to realize loyalty isn't that simple. It's not just lying to someone and getting away with it, or being disobedient to your mother or brother, or taking a side and ridiculing people you don't like. Here, loyalty means your honor, the very thing which drives your choices and your actions. It dictates where you stand and who you fight for, and defines your worth as a person with how true you are to your role."

Somewhere along his speech, Lucy had reached for him, running her hand up and down his arm comfortingly while occasionally pausing to trace patterns through his clothes. Edmund appreciated it; her hold on him made him feel grounded to the present, as he knew only too well how easy it was to be transported into a different reality that should have dissipated long ago yet still felt too real.

"I never swore fealty to her, but I have abandoned my family, and even tried many times to bring you lot to her!" His face had scrunched up in agony. When he spoke again, he wondered what Lucy heard, because even to his own ears, his voice was a strange sort of hollow yet undeniably tinged with shame, guilt, and regret. "No matter how you look around it, I was in her side. But I never stopped to ponder what that says about me, until that blasted hag... I know she was just taunting me, and yet I can't help but wonder if it makes me the worst or best kind of traitor. After all, I have betrayed both sides. In both perspectives, I'm every bit a traitor."

"It's okay, Ed. I understand..."

"That's just it. You wouldn't understand, Lu. No one would." Edmund hadn't meant to say it offensively. His voice and expression were strained from his emotions. Lucy simply looked at him sadly, her hands continuing to rub his arm in a soothing manner. The gesture and the intent behind it calmed him some, and despite everything, Edmund was grateful to his sister. Moments passed, a minute, several. In that chamber, it hardly mattered — Lucy would wait for him, however long he would take. And somehow, that assurance brought a sense of relief and comfort to Edmund, gave him the strength to do what he ought to have done long ago. Taking a deep breath as if to brace himself for a hard road ahead, he searched her face, his own imploring, and not until the words had tumbled out from his lips had Edmund realized that, just maybe, he needed this. "Would you listen?"

The subject had never been broached before, at least in depth or on purpose. Aslan had said to let the past behind them. And they all understood why — it would be unnecessary and just cruel to remind Edmund of what he must have already known, he above anyone else. Besides, whatever had transpired during those times that Edmund had been away from his family, that was his story. It was his to share to the world or keep hidden, safeguard it from people who might want to use it against him, himself included.

Lucy's initial thought was to protest. She didn't want Edmund to relieve any of it, if only for her to know and get an inkling of his feelings, of his fear, at his terrible expense. But she immediately retracted. Edmund needed her to listen. It wasn't for her sake, it was for his. There were some things that shouldn't be kept buried forever, and Edmund clearly looked like this was something he needed to talk about. And if he needed someone to listen to him, then Lucy would give him both ears and her whole heart.

She returned his look, meeting the soulful of his gaze straight, never to waver. "Of course," she told him, heartfelt and earnest, before squeezing his hand gently. Edmund couldn't help but smile at his sister, feeling some of the tension leaving his form as he allowed his shoulders to sag a little, though it was more of a reaction of relaxing than anything. He opened his palm and turned them up, so their hands were now holding, and then he squeezed back, letting it linger. He knew he got his gratefulness across when Lucy smiled back at him, with more obvious happiness this time.

He readied himself for this talk, wondering how he was supposed to begin speaking about something he'd so long since considered a secret, dark aspect of his self. Already feeling the coldness crawling its way towards his heart, enveloping it so that Edmund was seeing the cold and dark dungeon, the cold shackles biting into his ankles, the cold that seeped into his bones and the hunger that made his stomach churn, emptiness and fear, and he had to blink once, twice, so the fog of memory cleared. He was in the heart of their castle, warm and alight with fire, Lucy's hand in his, and the Lion's crest hanging on the wall.

Talking about his experience with the White Witch, which meant relieving his very days in her grasp and mercy and those days of pure, unbidden horror laden with almost unbearable guilt on his part, was another scary experience to go through, and one he would much rather not go through again if he could help it, but no matter how much Edmund had tried to banish her from his mind, conscious or awake, no matter how much he had tried to evade talking of his feelings regarding her, Edmund knew that he had to have this conversation eventually. It was sure to be unpleasant and highly uncomfortable, but really, what could be worse than having to live through that in reality? Relieving, although a torture in its own, had to be better somehow; at least he knew that here, no one could hurt him anymore.

"You know what they say about how it's much easier to forgive others than to forgive yourself?"

"Yes."

Edmund smiled slightly. "You know why?"

If Lucy gave herself a minute to think, she might come up with an answer. But she didn't, because she wanted to hear what Edmund thought of it, of the reason why he struggled with forgiving himself when everybody else already had. She shook her head lightly.

"It's true. You all know of my betrayal, but what of the feelings and thoughts that were going through me as I was betraying you? You know I wouldn't have done that, if I didn't hold any resentment."

He looked at their entwined hands, the marble statue, the silver crown, anywhere else so he wouldn't have to gaze directly into Lucy's eyes. "Thoughts, you know sometimes, they could be an awful lot more horrible than actions. Even if you don't physically go through with them, in your mind, you have. It's all a matter of courage — the wrong sort, of course, because you cannot do bad things and be considered courageous — that determines whether or not you do them. You might not have enough boldness in you, or the sense of responsibility afterwards, to do them, but in thousands of ways, you've already hurt people you love, cursed them, and imagined every imaginable demise to befall them."

"In your mind, you're free to hate them as much as you want..."

Edmund's voice echoed inside the otherwise silent chamber, and the sound that reverberated through the stone walls made his voice seemed louder. And hearing the awful things he'd done and thought back then only served to increase his shame.

His gaze was fixed on the ground. Though it was for certain that Lucy's eyes were intent on him, she was very still, there were no movements, no sounds, nothing for him to use to surmise her reactions to his words. But he dared not look at her face. Edmund wasn't a coward. He'd faced his sins before, admitted them to Aslan Himself, and had been brave enough to feel so humbled before the Great Lion and his siblings. But opening up his heart where he kept the darkest and most awful part of his life, especially to his family who he had wronged the most, required a different kind of strength, and although Edmund wasn't shirking away from this confession, it was taking every bit of his courage to voice out the most vulnerable part of himself that he had sheltered until now.

While he was talking, Edmund absentmindedly noted that Lucy had backed off, given him space so he didn't feel pressured like he needed to tell her, instead allowing him to talk on his own.

"I was under the enchantment of the White Witch, so my thoughts were more.... horrible then, than what I would've had on my own. But that wouldn't be the case in the first place if I hadn't already harbored some grudges."

"The White Witch talked to me, and I saw a chance. I resented my life. I resented Peter so much because he was older, had more power and authority. If I was king, then I wouldn't have had to put up with anything. If I was superior over him, or Susan or you, then I wouldn't have felt so inadequate."

Lucy's hand tightened around him it hurt slightly, and when he chanced a look at her, her eyes held so much pain and agony in them he felt they mirrored exactly what he was feeling, that it hit him with a wave of shock for a moment. She was pursing her lips, as though she wanted very badly to speak. But she was very respectful of him, probably of this time meant for him and of his courage, that she remained steadfast in her vow of silence. His own hand in hers felt clammy, and he was afraid that Lucy would be disgusted with him or hate him for what he was revealing, but he'd already come this far, and he couldn't stop.

All this time, he'd been talking as though he was experiencing, so that he couldn't help it if sometimes his words came out sarcastic or scathing. Memories as well as old feelings were currently living within and around him, and Edmund was feeling bad about himself all over again. Each recounting of the past was like a vile poison that left an unpleasant, bitter taste in his mouth.

"I'm the reason Mr. Tumnus was turned into stone. You must know that he was, since he arrived at Beruna with you, didn't he?"

This was one of the things Edmund had been dreading the most to tell his sister. He wasn't even sure why he was telling her this. Maybe because he'd already come this far that going much further ahead seemed like the only road to take. Perhaps he'd rather feel he deserved every ounce of affection that Lucy gave him.

Perhaps Lucy had already known this, or even if she hadn't known exactly what had happened, she must have had an inkling that he had been somehow involved in the faun's arrest. Her expression, however, remained unchanging; brows furrowed slightly in rapt attention that didn't feel oppressive in any way. And still, to her eternal credit, she let him have this time. Edmund himself wasn't sure he wanted to know her thoughts regarding this particular revelation.

With vivid clarity, he recalled that day when he had met the White Witch for the first time. That day also marked the firsts of his betrayals. At the time, Edmund literally hadn't known any better.

The first thing he had learned about this place — on his own and not from something Lucy had told them — was that Jadis had been the queen of Narnia. (Much later, with the Beavers, even with the evidences pointing otherwise, he had refused to accept that he had been wrong.) That time, it had never really occurred to Edmund that she could be _the_ witch in fairy tales. As such, telling her about his siblings and Tumnus had not been actions borne from malicious intent. Informing her of his siblings' whereabouts and revealing Aslan's plan even after finding out the truth, however, had been. He might have been under the influence of the Turkish Delight, but if Edmund could still feel remorse and sorrow then, there's no question that he'd had conscious thought and his wits with him and could have chosen to defy her, which he hadn't. Because he had wanted to win her favor, to have something that would set him apart from his siblings. For once, he'd wished to be the best in someone's eyes.

"I know Aslan has forgiven me. And I _know_ that He gave up His life for me," he added, and instantly felt Lucy's hand twitch, squeeze his abruptly. "And I also know that compared to Aslan's opinion, mine hardly matters. Even if it's on the subject of my transgression. That day on the hill, when His strong, gentle words reached my ears, when He breathed on me, and when He told us that what happened has passed and to let it behind us... I was happy, I was grateful. But it never makes it easier."

"How could I easily accept that the pardon I received is justified? When I myself am aware of how gravely I've wronged all of you? Aware of how horrible I was to _think_ that way of you, _wish_ all that for you, my own family?" Bitterness was seeping in his very tone. Shame and resentment, for himself, was bleeding at every word that left his lips, leaving an unpleasant trail in its wake.

Too overwhelming, it's how Lucy would describe her current emotions as they all bubbled towards the surface, wanting to burst out, threatening to spill. But even as her eyes turned glassy and the corner of her eyes were moist, even as Lucy wanted to cry, she didn't. After all, having someone weep with him over his story like it was some tragic tale wasn't exactly the sort of compassion Edmund needed. Hearing his experience told with a myriad of emotions that shadowed and marred his features, glinted at his eyes, reverberated in his voice, were telltaled in every sigh, tremble, hitch, or blink, Lucy could only imagine how much Edmund himself wished for a small reprieve, an opportunity to sit down and let himself succumb to the weight of his burden, rather than resist it which only made it harder to bear all the more. But he couldn't, or rather, he refrained from doing so. He had duties and responsibilities. He was a ruler, his people looked up to him to command and lead them. He couldn't afford to crumble.

But if, this night, he allowed himself to let go and needed to rely on someone, Lucy would set aside her own feelings and adjust her role to fulfill that need. And if Edmund wanted to cry, Lucy would hold back her own tears so he could shed his, and this time, between the two of them, she would become the pillar of strength.

The night wore on, and as Edmund's voice filled the four walls of that chamber, the siblings had somehow come to a silent understanding. Of course, Lucy, Peter, and Susan had assured Edmund, in their own ways, that everything was alright now, and Edmund himself was aware that while he had been at fault, the blame wasn't just his entirely. Edmund knew that, but then again these were his feelings. Something that neither knowledge of truth nor comfort of loved ones could easily influence. No one could indeed understand what their brother was going through, not because they failed to see or Edmund didn't trust enough to open his heart, but because it was something that only he had seen and experienced. So understanding what was only needed, Lucy had simply listened, allowed her brother to speak of his own truth. It might be far from the three siblings' own perception of things, but this was Edmund's side of the story.

"It's not always so bad though, despite everything I've just told you. At least, compared to our earlier years, I'm better with time. It's a pretty slow process, but I'm coping, somehow. I just don't want you and the others to worry about me. 'Cause I'm alright, for the most part. Really. It's just, with regards to some things, no matter how much time passed or in spite of the pardon you receive, you never really forget the horrors..." Edmund gave her a rueful smile then, but never said anything anymore.

Silence now began to settle in the air that felt heavy with the weight of Edmund's revelation. After he was done, a part of Lucy itched to speak in a rush, to counter his confession word for word, to make him see that his guilt and pain were due to his inability to let go of the past. But she held back. She wouldn't trample on Edmund's trust or the great courage that must have had taken him to reveal his heart to her. She would never deny his feelings or experience back then; she had no right to. Still, at the very least, Lucy needed to say this, needed Edmund to hear it.

"You told me, in confidence, how the experience was like for you, so now I know how you truly felt that time and what you thought of us, which made you do what you did." She placed her hand on his shoulder, locking his gaze with hers and beckoning him to search her eyes so he might find that she spoke only of the truth. "But by telling me this now, you do realize that you are also revealing how you presently feel towards us? You even risk my anger because you feel like you owe me the truth, however unpleasant it may be, and because you trust me so, that you keep courage to keep talking even though it's hard on you. You wouldn't have done that if you still hold those same feelings you harbored towards us in the past, Edmund. I've always known. And you don't even have to tell me what you feel or think right now. You sharing this part of yourself is just more proof that you love us. Not that we need any, because Edmund, we're a family, so how could we not know? And how could I possibly hate you?"

Edmund felt so bashful as he was greatly astounded by the intense sincerity in Lucy's words. There was slight shame in knowing that while he had wallowed in his own misery and thought so little of himself, all this time there were so many more others who loved and accepted him for who he was exactly. At the back of his mind, he'd always known this, but it was hard to acknowledge that when he always seemed to question whether or not he was truly deserving. But just the fact that Lucy was still here and telling these words to him meant that he had been wrong and possibly too hard on himself. It wouldn't be so easy to just suddenly change his overall perception of his own self, but at the very least, Edmund could maybe start reconsidering his own worth first and foremost.

Silence had fallen over them as they let those words sink in. Lucy herself wasn't particularly happy at the shocked look on her brother's face, as though Edmund truly believed that being loved and forgiven were a bit too much for someone like him. But when she saw the tiny, relieved smile that formed on his lips after a while, she knew that she had gotten to him somewhat. She couldn't expect Edmund to accept all of this so suddenly. He needed time, and she would patiently wait for him, no matter how long it would take, as soon as he was moving forward. But this night, they had achieved something, and that was alright for now.

When she finally deemed it alright to speak, she asked him. "How are you feeling?"

There were many words in the world, but Edmund wasn't sure which exactly were the right ones to describe what he was feeling. He'd always felt all over the place whenever his mind wandered to that place. He didn't know if he felt happy that he finally let it all out, or miserable that he'd just relieved the most horrible and painful part of his whole life. The past few minutes had been torture. But as he turned over Lucy's question in his head, he's starting to think that it's not all that bad as he'd initially presumed. Probably because it's over and done with, but it seemed as though there was a shift inside him, like he had just run so fast and so hard, or fought a strenuous and dangerous battle, and was just recovering from it. There was the feeling of being battered and drained, yet there was also the unbelievable sense of relief that it was all over. And truly he surprised himself as he did Lucy at the answer that sprung from his lips. "Light."

It was indeed. The air had felt heavy and tensed a while ago, as if he'd just expelled all of his pain and it hung around and over them. But despite the grim, when Edmund reached inside him into his heart, it felt lighter than it ever had in years. It's as if every poison in his heart and mind had poured out in his every word.

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Lucy moved. Edmund turned to see she had abandoned her seat and was now standing in front of him. He had little time to be confused before surprise replaced it, when Lucy bent down and pulled him into her embrace. Edmund was rendered speechless at first, unable to move in astonishment. Lucy's voice rang so softly in his ears, and her words had caused unbidden tears to well up in his eyes, as his own arms came up to wound themselves around his sister, accepting her boundless affection and allowing himself to be open and vulnerable in her arms, putting himself completely in her faith and strength.

"You are here, Ed. You came back to us. You fought beside Peter. You fought with us. For us." There was no rush in Lucy's words. Each one was enunciated with the utmost love, care, and clear intent. The words weren't simply, or at all, meant to comfort or assure him; Lucy was stating the facts. She said them quietly and gently, slowly and ever so carefully, but her voice was honest and absolute. Edmund knew and felt this, because in each word, he was reminded of the truths in each of them, truths that were hard to see because of the fog of doubt and pain that had clouded his heart for a very long time. But Lucy was patient as she told him what _was_.

"You have returned safely back to us. Aslan has forgiven you and He loves you, as we, your family, have and do. No matter what. All has been forgiven although nothing could be forgotten. But this is the present, Ed. You are alright." And then, for the first time, her voice broke and it was once again laden with much earnestness as she spoke from her heart.

Like time and time again, Lucy shuddered to imagine what could have happened if things had turned out differently. It had been almost like that, after all. They had been close, too frighteningly close, to losing Edmund, more than once. Lucy had been so young at both times, but the images, especially the feelings, were so vivid and haunting as though they had only happened yesterday. Lucy couldn't ever forget that helplessness when Edmund had been so far from them, literally and emotionally, that Lucy had had no idea how to reach out to him, to call him back. Or that gripping fear and desperation when he had laid wounded on a battlefield he had been too young to fight in, that crushing feeling as though the world had crumbled down for that long, agonizing moment when her brother had gone completely still, when he'd stopped gasping for air. And though young she had been then, she had already experienced a lot of painful and terrifying events in her few years, but none had hurt and scarred her little heart so than having one of her siblings — one fourth of her soul — die before their very eyes and they had all been children and powerless to stop the inevitable. What was worse of the two didn't matter, because she had gone through both — seeing the life leave Edmund, and being near him but unable to do anything.

And at her words, and of the way she spoke them, Edmund knew he wasn't the only one scarred during that day.

_"Thank you for being here."_

And then she let go and stood up straight, a tearful but happy smile adorning her face. Edmund was a little embarrassed, not used to engaging in such heartfelt conversations with anyone, or receiving very earnest and honest affections. But he found he didn't mind this at all, and was willing to squash down his embarrassment because he felt very happy himself. Above all, he was grateful that despite all that he had done, he was still loved wholly and unconditionally. Although as Lucy had pointed out, this was the present. The most important thing right now was that he was with his family. Because he had defeated the White Witch, had won over his self that had followed Jadis. And it was for that reason, along with Aslan's great love and Edmund's own love for and devotion to his family, that he's here right now. Home with Peter, Susan, and Lucy.

He rubbed his nose and subtly sniffed to hide his embarrassment, though the genuine and almost shy smile that appeared, though small, was visible. In that moment, he looked more like the boy Lucy had known all those years ago — boyish, awkward, and embarrassed at the slightest affection. She giggled, and she would've jumped at him again, but she rather thought Edmund had had enough of everything for tonight, pleasant or otherwise, so she spared him and just contented herself with witnessing and living this precious moment with her dear brother.

A pleasant and comfortable atmosphere settled around the chamber, like the warmest blankets enveloping the two siblings. Or exchanging stories and adventures around a bonfire by the seaside. Or watching the sun shine on the eastern sea from the balcony while sipping warm tea. It's more than they could ever want or hope for.

Edmund returned Lucy's grin — he'd always thought her smile was contagious — before asking. "Aren't you sleepy? Would you like to go back to your room?"

Lucy thought he might have asked out of consideration, because Edmund looked a bit reluctant to let this night end. Quite frankly, she was, too.

"Not if you still want me here," she said playfully.

Edmund chuckled, before gesturing for her to sit beside him again, which she happily did. He wrapped an arm around her and allowed her to lean against his side with her head resting on his shoulder. He rubbed her shoulder affectionately.

"Thanks, Lu," he said after a moment of silence. "And I love all of you, too."

Though he couldn't see it, he sensed her smile. "I know."

Edmund smiled, then he looked once again at the marble statue of the Just King, and finally at the Silver Crown that laid atop his personal chest. Like smoke clearing from his mind, he's starting to realize that all these, he hadn't earned on his own. His crown, his title, they were gifts from Aslan, because they had been meant to be his long before he had come to Narnia. His first deed in this kingdom hadn't been justly, but Aslan had named him "the Just" anyway because that's what the Lion had wanted him to be, what he had been asked to do; to extend to the people of Narnia the same mercy that had been bestowed upon him. He had been given the duty of ensuring that balance and justice was served rightly. And this aspect of leading had been entrusted to him, not to Peter or his sisters, because he himself knew of what it's like to receive the absolute mercy and pardon from the highest authority Himself. Knowing how great and grave the sin he had committed, Edmund realized how much Aslan loved him to have forgiven him this much.

It was foolish of him to ever doubt Aslan or his own self when he was clearly so blessed. But thank Aslan for his sister, Lucy, that he's now reminded of what really mattered in the present. Well, Lucy had always had so much faith in Aslan and His plans. Edmund still had a long way to go until he fully moved on from his past, but for now, he was ready to take a step, in the right direction this time. And that was, finally believing that he was worthy of all that was in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is also crossposted on my FanFiction account linked to my AO3 profile. Thank you for reading. Feedback is appreciated! :)


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